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I quirk an eyebrow at him. “Assumed?”
He offers a self-deprecating smile. “Yeah. Sorry. It’s just…you don’t really look…” he trails off, shaking his head again.
I let out a soft chuckle, mildly amused by the uncharacteristic inability to find words. “I get it, it’s confusing. The good news is I’m still allowed to put my cock in other guys’ arses even if I don’t walk around wearing sparkly hot pants and waving a rainbow flag.”
In the irony of all ironies, tonight I just happen to be wearing my red Freddie Mercury World AIDS Day t-shirt, which is basically the gayest piece of clothing I own. It’s kind of an abstract design, though, and the World AIDS Day logo is small and currently hidden under the table so I really can’t blame Devon for not clocking it. I’m more surprised that in the two years they were together, Emma never mentioned the fact that I’m into guys; I guess people don’t talk about me as much as I always assumed they did.
Devon rolls his eyes. “You really have no shame, do you?”
I shrug and take a sip of my beer. “Why should I? I have nothing to be ashamed about.”
Devon holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “Hey, I’m not judging.”
I let out a breath of rueful laughter. “Well, that’s a first. Please don’t tell me you’re going to suddenly start being nice to me just because I’m part of a marginalised community.”
The corner of Devon’s mouth quirks up in a wry smirk. “I wouldn’t count on it. You’d have to suddenly stop being a prick, and we both know that’s not going to happen.”
I arch a brow at him. “Well, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”
Devon stares at me for a moment, a strange expression crossing his face. “What did you say?”
My brows shoot up in surprise at his response. “Uh…pot—kettle,” I say slowly, gesturing first to him, then to me. “It’s a common idiom. A roundabout way of calling you a prick.”
He gives a sharp shake of his head, as though trying to dislodge a thought that was stuck in there. “Right. Sorry.”
“What are you doing here, anyway? You live ages away.”
“This isn’t exactly your local, either” he points out. “Don’t you live in Bethnal Green?”
“Poplar,” I correct, not sure where the hell he’s pulled Bethnal Green from. “But even if this place were more than a five-minute bus ride, I’d still come all the time.” I nod toward the bar, where Adam’s serving a customer. “Mate of mine. Went to uni together.”
Devon’s brows shoot up in obvious surprise. “You went to uni?”
I narrow my eyes at him. Could this guy be any more of a fucking snob? “Yes, I went to uni. Fine arts major. Minored in business.”
“Wow, that’s…wow.” He gives a slight shake of his head, as though he can barely believe what he’s hearing.
“Should I be offended that you seem more surprised about this than the fact I like cock?”
Devon starts sputtering again and attempts to disguise his discomfort with a sip of his beer.
“Sorry, I just… You don’t really seem like the academic type.”
I smirk at him. “Have you ever heard the term ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’?”
He nods. “Fair.”
“You never answered my question,” I remind him. “What brings you so far from your natural habitat?”
“It’s actually not that far. Our offices are in Canary Wharf. I’m just waiting for Ryan to finish up work so we can go to the football.”
“Oh, god. Don’t tell me this could become a regular thing?” I say with a mock gasp. “I’ll have to tell Adam to put you on the no-entry list.”
Devon lets out a soft chuckle. “Trust me, I’ll be avoiding this place like the plague from now on.”
I loose a soft breath of laughter and take a sip of my beer. “Which game?”
“Fulham-Man U. We don’t follow either team but we’ve got box tickets so it should be fun.”
